


the only way out is through

by TuesdayTerrible



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Angst, M/M, Masterbation, Mutual Pining, Pining, Soulmate AU, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, dirty boys with dirty minds, sad boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-03-17
Packaged: 2019-03-27 13:35:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13881951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TuesdayTerrible/pseuds/TuesdayTerrible
Summary: “But maybe it's okay.” Jean says surprisingly calm “Maybe he wasnt meant to be mine. He doesnt seem like someone whom can belong to someone right?  Maybe it was enough to just know him like I have, to know I exsist in the same time that he does y'know? Maybe that just has to be enough.”“You don't mean that.” She says blunt in her kindness.“No.” Jean admits closing his eyes. “But I think maybe one day I can.”//Or, where Jean Kirschtein is no stranger to loss....And neither is Eren.





	1. Chapter 1

 

It was almost midnight when he was sitting at the kitchen table, his mother's hand wrapped around his as they waited with thinly disguised nerves hoping for Jean to get a mark. Soul-mate marks were becoming less and less common and Jean had been particularly devastated when Marco hadn't gotten one last year.

 

“Marco deserves one more than I do.” Jean says as he stares at the clock, 11:58pm, followed by an anxious glance towards his mother, a canine digging into his lower lip. “It's fine if I don't get one. I don't even want one anyway.” But he cant seem to hide the hitch in his voice as his mother gently pats his hand affectionately.

 

“Jean even if you don't there's someone out there for you. Just like there's someone out there for Marco- you're both sweet boys. There's only a minute left now anyway, so lets just see?”

 

Jean huffs out a breath of air dispelling his nerves as he nods, and just like magic at midnight the color starts from his wrist, the most intricate shade of green, almost blue in some spots and spirals up towards his shoulder. The design is much larger than most soulmate tattoos and Jean's mother smiles affectionately.

 

“Once again, god has blessed you Jean.” She ruffles his hair affectionately, and he grumbles a get off of me as she ducks to pinch his cheek and head upstairs to bed. It's not until he hears her bedroom door shut does Jean let the tears of relief trail down his cheeks.

 

“Thank you.” Jean whispers over and over and over again, though to whom he's thanking, he doesn't even know.

 

.

 

Jean wants to boast about his soulmate mark. He wants to show it off more than anything to anyone whom is willing to look. But Marco's his best friend, and he doesn't want to rub salt in a wound, so he wears long sleeves the following day to hide his mark. And when he sits down with his friends at lunch, it's Marco who asks him with a kind freckled smile if he got what he was hoping for. Jean offers a non-nonchalant shrug hoping to indicate he doesn't really care what happens either way and while it may have fooled some- it doesn't fool Marco, a larger smile forming across his face.

 

“Are you going to let me see?”

 

“If you want.” Jean mutters though his heart is pounding in his chest as he removes his outer long sleeved shirt exposing the green lines that spiral in the most intense patterns across his wrist and up to his shoulder blade.

 

“Woah shit!” Connie says at his reveal. “That's the biggest soulmark I've ever seen.”

 

Jean smiles proudly before casting a nervous glance at Marco- whom doesn't seem the least bit offended at all.

 

“I bet your soulmate is very passionate just like you Jean.” Marco says fondly. “I cant wait until you meet them.”

 

“Me either.” Jean whispers when the attentions turns towards Ymir shoving bread down Sasha's throat.

 

.

 

It's been almost a year since Jean received his soul-mate mark. He has traced the designs on his flesh thousands of times to the point he can draw it (and has) on several notebooks and flat surfaces. His birthday is coming up, and he wonders if this is the closest to his lover as he will ever get- knowing nothing more than the color of their eyes.

 

And it's at that moment, walking on a busy street that it happens. The colors on his arm glow, blinding through the grey April sky and his flesh is burning, searing, aching as he catches those beautiful intense green eyes staring at him only a few feet away.

 

It's a boy, around his age. He's thin, a little to thin, with dark unruly hair, and wild green eyes. He's beautiful, Jean thinks as a roll of thunder hovers in the distance, but Jean can barely hear it over the thundering of his heartbeat.

 

He goes, moves to close the distance between them, but before Jean can take one step forward- the boy takes off. Jean knows there's no way he can hear the boys feet pounding against the asphalt as he fades away from view- but he swears the beat is in perfect sync to his slowly breaking heart.

 

Out of all the ways Jean had pictured meeting his soul-mate , this is not what he had expected. He had never heard of a soul-mate rejecting their mark- and without a doubt- the person he's dreamed of meeting for a year took one look at him and r a n. It is said when people lose their soulmates to death their heart gives out within a few days, the strain of being separated to great for the other to continue. Jean knows his soul mates not dead, but the way everything in his chest clenches he's sure you can die from this. He's sure the rejection will kill him.

 

The sky breaks and rain covers him in a steady stream.. He's grateful for the water that hides his tears, and the thunder that drowns his screams.

 

.

 

It's two nights after he meets his soul-mate. Two nights after a ridiculous amount of tears to Marco and an even more ungodly amount of embarrassment, Jean is laying in his own bed relieved to be feeling nothing but, well, nothing.

 

For a minute.

 

It starts with a burning itch in his mark, followed by a slow trickle of panic. He could feel it instantly filling him up, muted but intense in it's severeness. He could feel his lungs wanted to expand desperate to catch a breath that wasn't difficult even a second ago.

 

“I'm...not afraid.” Jean tells himself, though his body is telling him very differently. His body is screaming between fight and flight- soul crippling anxiety only muggier. It takes him a moment longer to realize it's not him who is feeling this way- this overwhelming anxiety. It's his soul mate. He had heard of soulmates once uniting being able to read each others minds, or being able to communicate in ways other people just couldn't.

 

He focuses on controlling his breathing and fines himself talking quietly inside his head. He doubts he can hear him, but the desire to calm him down- to help is so strong, and it just feels so natural.

 

_Hey you're okay. It's going to be okay.. just breathe. Just like this... in and out. It's okay. You're fine. You can breathe. In and out. In and out._

 

Eventually, he felt the panic subside and it was just him, the connection faded but not gone. His boy was calm. All was okay.

 

_I'm glad I could help you you maniac._ Jean thought to himself or his person, he's not exactly sure as the emotional onslaught tugged on his consciousness- pulling Jean into a quiet dreamless sleep.

 

.

 

“I... don't think getting over him is going to be an option.” Jean tells Marco one day in the library over an english paper.

 

Marco doesn't question, just looks up at him kindly raising a pointed eyebrow and waiting for Jean to continue, pencil slowing in it's movement across the paper..

 

“It's just...I feel him. Sometimes. A lot actually.” Jean says helplessly running a finger through his hair. “Boys like....I don't know an emotional hurricane.”

 

His green-eyed maniac was intense in everything he felt. Unfortunately the boy mostly felt angry, or anxious, or devastated. Or sick. Jean had spent the last two weeks feeling this strange sense of wrongness that accompanied the emotions that flooded his system. A tug of need. A pull of nausea so bone achingly deep, Jean had taken a day off himself. He had spent a lot of time whispering in his head to someone he was sure couldn't hear him- focusing on getting his own body and his maniacs body to just calm down and listen to reason.

 

It worked.

 

Sometimes.

 

Jean was starting to worry himself and was worried that his worrying was going to set off his personal maniac. It was a never ending dilemma even now he could feel the tug of nerves from his person as he fought to keep his emotions in check.

 

“Why don't you do something that relieves stress like, um, you could work out or...”

 

Jean blinked staring towards him as Marco's face got red, before he gave a sheepish little shrug.

 

“Oh no.” Jean said earning a scowl from the teacher before he dropped his head and leaning forwards to Marco to hiss. “You don't mean.”

 

“You went there.” Marco said smiling devilishly. “I never said a word.”

 

“Looks like Jesus, Thinks like Satan.” Jean mutters under his breath, Marco despite himself dissolving into a fit of giggles.

 

The truth of the matter is- Jean had been avoiding masturbation from the minute he felt the connection, worried that his maniac would feel it and what that would mean if he could....what it would mean if he couldn't. Which meant he hadn't gotten off in a little over a week- muscles tense and patience worn thin.

 

_If I did get off._ Jean thought grumpily _Id last like a minute. And If he can tell that, id die of embarrassment. This sucks._

 

_Can you hear me?_ Jean asked tugging on the emotional presence of his maniac in his mind.  _Why'd you run huh? I thought..I thought this would be easy. I wanted this to be easy._

 

It's not until the bell rings that something like a whisper flutters through the corners of his mind, in a voice that is not his own.

 

_Nothing's fucking easy. Dumb ass._

 

_._

His boy is panicking. His green-eyed maniac, it wakes him up from a dead sleep, the anxiety that curls in his chest pushing his tired amber eyes open. He digs a heel into tired eyes and focus's on his breathing.

 

_It's okay baby_ Jean promises  _I've got you. Rather you want me to or not._

 

He can tell he's tense though, more so than usual- fighting Jeans attempt to keep him calm, fighting against the soothing voice Jean tries to give to him. He's not just anxious Jean realizes biting his lip thoughtfully. He's frustrated.

 

_Dont judge me okay._ Jean says unsure of what his boy hears. He's sure this one went through their odd connection though, because the anxiety that's laced with Jean's words is his own, and the strong feelings always- always go through.

 

He runs his hands down his chest, lingering above the waist band above his boxers before he takes his cock into his hands. He's not sure if his maniac can feel his hands or not, but there's a flutter of something that wasn't there before. A flutter of something Jean knows is not his own.

 

He closes his eyes tightly and tries to turn his mind off- not wanting to give his maniac any more than the feelings of stress relief, a different sort of outlet for the way he is feeling. Still, the idea of the dark haired boy with intense green eyes under him, begging for him to take care of him has Jean harder than a rock in seconds.

 

He imagines pinning his hands behind his head and stretching him open with three fingers until his maniac's cock is dripping heavily on his stomach and he's whimpering, so needy and desperate that the pulse between their connection has Jean shivering with barely controlled lust. He imagines fucking into him slow and hard, than fast and deep. He imagines taking the boy apart and putting him back together in every way he knows and every way he doesn't.

 

It doesn't take long for the pull of release to build in his gut, and he comes with a short cry against the back of his hand as copious amount of cum shoots up his chest,some even landing on his cheek.

 

The burn of embarrassment is short-lived to the deep seated satisfaction, and while he doesn't feel double-y relieved. The frustration and tension that had woken him up is long gone and he wonders vaguely if his anxious maniac is asleep.

 

_Goodnight you crazy bastard_

 

_._

 

No one besides Marco knows that Jean met the maniac once- no one knows about his connection, or the boy who ran. Jean thinks maybe he would die of embarrassment if they did. The boy who gets a soul-mark gets rejected.

 

He wonders about moving on, but the thought sometimes sends him with spiraling waves of grief that has his person trying feebly to send positive vibes his way in return.

 

_I'm here._ Green eyes says. _I'm here._

 

_But you don't want me,_ Jean thinks closing his eyes allowing the sadness to cover him like a blanket. He's not expecting his maniac to comfort him, it's not necessarily something Jean even wants. He just wants to feel, and feel without the fraying edges of guilt that his soulmate can feel this too. This tidal wave of self-loathing and sadness. Jean can feel pulls of his maniac's confusion and Jean wonders if he's wondering what's wrong with him.

 

_You're the only one I will want._

 

_._

 

It's 3:00 am when Jean wakes with a start, his dick straining hard and longing against his boxers, an unfamiliar pressure coming from within him. He feels stuffed, stretched full and there's a new pleasure that overwhelms hims in a way sex hasn't before, and before he has the presence of mind to even remove his boxers, he is cumming.

 

Hips jerking into the air as he soaks his boxers, stars shooting behind tightly closed eyes.

 

It isnt until the stickiness becomes unbearable and the low thrum of satisfaction tapers off does Jean feel something ugly begin to bloom in his chest.

 

Was his green eyed maniac being fucked?

 

The jealousy starts out slowly- spreading through his chest like poision, and settling hard in his gut like stone.

 

.

 

“Jean...maybe that's enough.”

 

His focus is blurry as he stares towards Marco. He wonders if Alcohol affects the green-eyed, cheating asshole.

 

Jean grabs Marco by the shirt, fingers fisting the material tightly and bringing his best friends face down to his own.

 

“I coulda been good ta' 'im.” Jean hisses. “I wanted ta be good to 'im.”

 

“I know.” Marco says not bothering to loosen Jean's fingers from his shirt, he merely stands there- watching him carefully. But Jean mistakes the look for pity and Marco watches as angry tears form behind intoxicated eyes.

 

“M' I a fuckin' eye sore?” His voice is choked, lodged in his throat, his head dipping forward to rest on Marco's shoulder. “Whyd he run Marco...whyd he run?”

 

Marco cards long soothing fingers through his Jeans undercut, pushing bangs out of his eyes. “I don't know.” He says softly. “Maybe we should get you home? Yeah?”

 

Jean shakes his head pushing away from him abruptly and disappearing into the crowd of people.

 

-

Which in retrospect was a terrible idea.

 

Marco had called Jean's phone three times before Jean had turned it off and turned his attention back to the guy in front of him. He was blonde, and about Jean's height, and he had nice eyes- but they weren't half as beautiful as his maniacs.

 

He's not sure why when the guy- Thomas? Maybe? Asked him to come have a cigarette with him he readily agreed. Jean didnt smoke. Nor did he have sex in alleys, but apparently that's what was going to happen to.

 

Jean's head swam as Thomas spread his legs open with a knee, mouthing hungrily at the juncture of his neck.

 

Nothing had ever felt more wrong. It felt like his skin was alive crawling at every hungry touch, and his hands which felt heavy had managed to find the guys shoulder.

 

“No.” Jean said. “'ant. M'cant. STOP.”

 

“It wont hurt. I think youll like it.” He mouths against heated skin and Jean feels his heart drop into his gut and his mark burn.

 

“I 'ave one.” Jean gasps brokenly, squirming against the wall, his lower back scraping against the brick. “I 'ave someone, I don't...”

 

_I don't want this_

 

“Get. The. _Fuck._ Off. Of. Him.”

 

Jean's head swims as he turns sharply to the left, but he knows those green eyes anywhere. The hand that collides with Toby? Thomas? What was that fuckers name? Is so sudden and so sharp, he falls away from Jean with such a force Jean cant believe it came from the guy smaller than him.

 

He's tenacious, his soulmate, eyes blazing like emeralds, glinting in the dim lighting of the bars back alley. He straddles Thomas and hits him again, his head bouncing sickly from his fist and the asphalt. He's unconscious almost instantly, and he can tell the boy in front of him is struggling to not hit his asaulter more.

 

“And you.” He hisses, walking towards Jean so angrily, Jean swears he's going to punch him too.

 

Jean swallows, and desperately trys to bite onto some of the anger that is in his soulmates heart, but he cant because the love, the gratitude, and the relief in his is so strong. He's overwhelmed with the fact that he is at least seeing him for a moment and Jean hates himself for being so enamored with the maniac who'se feelings are everywhere but at him.

 

“Y'r name.” Jean croaks as the shorter boy grabs him by his button up shirt, breath hot in his face. “Just tell me ye'r name.” He wishes it didnt sound like a plea.

 

His maniac doesnt seem interested, glaring him down with such fierce possession, his gut burns. And then his lips are pressing against Jean's in a means to claim, and devour. Jean's usually talented mouth sloppy and slow to his green-eyed soulmates, but he doesnt seem to mind, pushing farther and digging deeper.

 

“Eren.” He breathes when he pulls away from him, breathing shallow. “Yours?”

 

“Jean...” He whispers, though he's not entirely sure why. “Jean Kirschtein.”

 

“Well Jean Kirschtein.” Eren says lowly. “Do not _ever_ let someone put their hands on you, again.”

 

.

 

 

“I swear Jean, if I havent known you for five forevers, I could have killed you.” Marco mumbles folding his clothes on his desk across from Jean, whom is only stirring with consciousness to his softly muttered tangent. “Could have been taken god knows where with god knows who- it's a miracle in and of itself you didnt end up a bloody mess with that mouth of yours. Or heavin forbid contract some shit. You're to old for me to be lecturing your drunk ass on fucking condoms.Stupid, idiotic...oh...your up.”

 

Jean drags a hand down his face. “m'sorry.” He says solemnly. “I didnt do anything. I...” He pauses pressing a hand into his eye sockets hoping to douse out the pain in his head. “His name is Eren.” He says and his voice sounds watery. “I don't...remember much. But he came... I know he came. He came right?” Jean bites his lip doing his best to fight through the onslaught of pressure that is drilling into his head and clouding his vision. “Howd you find me Marco?”

 

“He must have turned your phone on, if you didnt.” Marco says softly. “I thought you text me you were outside. And..no one was with you when I got there. Besides...well that unconsicous guy in the alley. But I assumed that was you.”

 

“Maybe I made it all up.” He whispers. “But it felt real. He felt so...real.”

 

The longing in his voice is enough to make Marco cringe, and Jean tries hard to shrug it off.

 

“Here.” Marco says handing him a bottle of water. “This will help.”

 

“Nothing will help.” Jean mutters, even as he throws the bottle back and gulps it down greedily.

 

_Please Eren_ Jean wills. _Please tell me it was real. Please you freaking maniac, you green-eyed bastard. Tell me it was real._

 

His only response is silence as Marco chunks a bottle of aspirin beside him on the bed.

 

.

 

Jean is pretty good at expecting the unexpected. I mean, after all, he had the soul mate who ran. It kind of readjusts things in your brain to assume that anything can happen. But nothing could have prepared him for this.

 

He would never be ready to handle this.

 

Marco Bodt had died, at the age of 17, and no one- not a soul had been around to witness him being stabbed just behind the library one late afternoon. Just like that, the person he trusted most in the world, the person who knew him best was gone.

 

His hand is shaking as Marco's brother tells him that they're having cremated. Jean just nods. It's not his call, what happens to Marco. Marco would want his parents to do whatever brought them the most comfort. Marco was the most selfless-

 

_I wish it had been me._ Jean squeezes his eyes tight. The world is so much worse off without Marco in it.

 

He feels the faintest tug on his connection with Eren, a muffled muted curse. The word _NO._ But Jean can barely hear him. He doesnt have the desire to try.

 

“If you need anything.” Jean says, his voice cracking. “Any of you- I'll- Let me know. Marco was...”

 

“We know.” His brother says kindly, his smile only half as sweet. “You were his best friend. He loved you too.”

 

.

 

Jean feels sick and tired the vast majority of the time. The seat next to him in trig is empty. The seat in his truck on the way home, is empty. Jean's life is horrendously terribly, suddenly irreparably, empty.

 

_There's no justice in this world_

 

The thought is not his own, and he doesnt bother trying to contemplate the meaning or strengthen the bond between them. He just sighs, turning the key in his car. Auto-piloting.

 

_No...there isnt._

 

.

 

It's not that Jean's suicidal. Because he isnt. But for some reason he cant get the thought of dying alone out of his head. His soul mate leaves him, his best friend is gone for good- and he wonders if this is fate- if he too will be a lonely body for no one to claim. Dead with no one around to see it happen.

 

The thought causes him to do somethings he probably wouldnt normally do.

 

Jean bloodies his knuckles more at school than he has in years. He picks fights, and stops fights, and punches walls when he's not doing the others. He volunteers at some of the places Marco works, and when he watches a car wreck on the other side of the highway, he slams his car in the middle of the road in park, and runs over through traffic despite the horns blaring to drag the driver out of his car and press on his injuries until the paramedics arrive.

 

He's not trying to be heroic, and the fact that he should have been hit during his reckless stunt isnt lost on him either. Still, he cant seem to keep blood off of his hands.

 

It's the night after the car crash that Jean gets into his truck, hands shaking.

 

_It doesnt get easier Kirschtein_

 

Jean hisses his response, anger prickling his form.

 

_I never thought it would asshole._

 

The silence weighs heavily in their joined connection, so thick and palatable that Jean rubs his head in hopes to alleviate the growing tension.

 

_I'm sorry._

 

He can feel that he means it. But his empathy doesnt bring Marco back. It doesnt bring him closer. It doesnt make anything better.

 

_Why'd you run you bastard? Whyd you run?_

 

Jean cant help but wonder if he'll ever get the answer to that question.

 

.

 

He meets a boy named Armin outside the library.

 

Jean sometimes does this thing where he sits in the spot where he's sure Marco drew his last breath and talks to him. It's morbid, but it calms him down more than Eren's feeble attempts, more than a broken connection and lost hope.

 

That's where Armin finds him.

 

“You must be Jean.” He says kneeling down to his level from where Jean sits slumped against the brick of the old building.

 

He flinches on reflex and looks up to the blonde haired boy with the bluest eyes he's ever seen, like the ocean he thinks, before scowling. “Do I know you?”

 

“I'm Armin.” He says extending a hand completely unperturbed.

 

He stares towards him, frown firmly in place as he locks fingers with the boy. A tiny soul mark gracing his ring finger, the grayest blue he's ever seen- and Jean finds himself smiling despite himself. It's so rare for him to come across someone with a soul mark, especially his age. He licks his lips wondering if he can ask before Armin smiles kindly and nods.

 

“Yes, I found her.” He says smiling softly, before Jean blinks up at him shocked. “I could tell by how you were staring, sorry. Have you found yours?”

 

Jean wonders why this boy sounds like he already knows the answer before Jean finds himself bluntly answering. “The marks are wrong.”

 

“The marks are never wrong- never since they started showing up has there ever been-”

 

“Until now.” Jean interrupts. “Mine ran. It was wrong. Now unless you need something...”

 

Armin sits there quietly for a moment, a moment that seems to stretch on entirely to long, before Armin rises to a stand a small smile gracing his features.

 

“Maybe you should wonder why they ran before you determine the mark is wrong yeah? See you later Jean.”

 

_I don't need to wonder, I know._ Jean thinks morosely, _He ran because of me. He took one look and knew. He knew what I didnt. He knew I wasnt what he wanted._

 

_Youre the only one I will want._

 

He wonders longingly who's heart gets to run next to Eren's every day. He wonders if they know how lucky they are.

 

.

 

“It's different man.” Connie says as Jean runs a hand down his face in frustration.

 

“Connie, you two fight about stupid things all. The. Time.” Jean says eyeing him pointedly. “Sasha's not going to leave your dumb ass.”

 

“You didnt see the look on her face Jean.” Connie says, biting his lip. “I cant lose her man.”

 

“Then don't.” Jean says with a shrug of his shoulder. “Stop telling me and go find her and tell her.”

 

Connie's already half way to the door before Jean's done talking. Jean wonders for not the first time, if his life will be orbiting in and out through others. If he'll ever matter.

 

.

 

The next time Jean meets Armin, his soul mate is with him. She has the prettiest dark hair he's ever seen, and these pretty gray blues that make Jean smile despite himself.

 

“And this gorgeous lady must be your soulmate.” Jean says flashing a bright smile as he sits across from Armin.

 

Armin smiles shyly before nodding. “Um..yes..this is Mikasa.”

 

“Armin says your soulmate ran.” Mikasa says dryly, and Jean feels his heart launch into his throat. He manages to clear his throat and suppress the bitterness bubbling in his gut as he responds tightly. “Yes.”

 

She seems to watch him carefully before she proceeds. “Why did he run?”

 

Jean sighs. “Probably because he didnt like what he saw.” The simplicity of it hurts so deeply, he can feel himself burning with embarrassment underneath her soft scrutiny. “But, It's really none of your business is it?”

 

_It's okay...just breathe.._

 

Jean tenses at the voice in his head, and rises to a stand on reflex. 'Excuse me.”

 

He runs.

 

And runs.

 

And runs.

 

_Nothing is okay. Eren. Eren. Eren. You bastard! You maniac! You Moron! We're through._

 

 

_._

 

It's 1 AM when Jean's phone vibrates across his end table with a restricted number.

 

He answers it, blurry eyed and confused. “'llo” he grumbles barely articulate and when his answer is uneven breathing, he knows. His heart leaps into his throat- not from the over dramatic horror movies- but the realization that he _knows_ without a doubt in his mind who is on the end of the phone.

 

“How dare you.” the voice hisses, angry, breathless. “We're through? Like hell we're through you self-centered horse-faced prick.”

 

Jean blinks, pressing palms into tired eyes that are already brimming with tears- though from hurt, or anger, or lack of sleep, Jean isnt sure.

 

“What do you want Eren?” Jean finally musters. “What the hell do you want?”

 

It's quiet for a moment to the point Jean pulls the phone away to see if he's hung up, yet the numbers still slowly continue on- the silence heavy between them. He finds himself sighing resolved to just hang up himself when he hears him clear his throat.

 

“Just wait.” Eren's voice sounds soft, scared. Very unlike everything Jean's ever seen. Ever felt. It's so soft, it doesnt seem to add up to the boy he's known so distantly. So intimately. “Wait for me a little longer okay?”

 

He doesnt say please, though Jean can feel it pulsing in every muscle in his body. And he doesnt wait for an answer either before the only thing that graces Jean's ear is silence.

 

“Okay, you reckless bastard.” He says. “Just a little more.”

 

.

 

“Do you think I have a horse-face?” Jean asks Connie the following day, who immediately doubles over laughing hysterically. He wishes he could have asked Marco instead and slumps down grumpily. “Oh shut up, like your cueball is anything to swoon over.”

 

After a few more minutes of Jean glaring at Connie, he manages to calm himself down, rubbing idly at the tears that had formed in the corner of his eyes.

 

“Sorry, that was good, who said that?” When Jean doesnt answer, Connies brow furrows, concern gracing his usually carefree features. “Hey...they probably just meant you have a strong jaw yea? Youre fine looking for a dude.”

 

“Gee. Thanks.” Jean grumbles but offers him a half hearted smirk. “Probably meant they think I have a big dick, which is a good thought because I do.”

 

Which leads the two of them laughing much to loudly, for far to long, over the male anatomy.

 

.

 

Mikasa is sitting in what Jean refers to as Marco's spot, flowers gracing the ground. He stares towards her expectantly, and she rises to a stand easily making room for him to sit next to her, and Jean sighs accepting the gesture.

 

“Why are you here?” He mumbles. “Did you bring these?”

 

“I knew you would be.” she says easily enough, which makes Jean all the more irritated. “And no- they were already here.”

 

“Look incase you couldnt figure it out I-”

 

“I want you to tell me about your soul-mate.”

 

“Why would I-”

 

“Tell me and I'll go.”

 

He sighs, before giving a resigned nod.

 

“He's a lot like you.” Jean says. “ In the way that he seems like the kind of guy who doesn't take no for an answer. He's hard-headed. Hot-tempered.” Jean pauses rubbing the back of his neck. “Truth is Mikasa, I don't really know him. Or understand him at all. He feels so much, he's like a storm. He's...devastating and beautiful and I've never wanted to know someone more in my life. I wish Marco could have met him. Shit. I wish he even wanted to meet me.”

 

The knot in his chest tightens and truth is- Jean isnt sure whom the pain belongs to.

 

“But maybe it's okay.” Jean says surprisingly calm “Maybe he wasnt meant to be mine. He doesnt seem like someone whom can belong to someone right? Maybe it was enough to just know him like I have, to know I exsist in the same time that he does y'know? Maybe that just has to be enough.”

 

 

“You don't mean that.” She says blunt in her kindness.

 

“No.” Jean admits closing his eyes. “But I think maybe one day I can.”

 

Jean's not sure what the look she's giving him means as she walks away. He's pretty sure its pity though.

 

.

 

“I have never loved anyone but you.” His voice is strained. Eren almost ways sounds like he's been yelling. “I meant it Jean every word. You are the only one I will want. After all this....Can you still want me to?”

 

There has only ever been one answer.

 

“Yes.”

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I probably wont even meet him.” Eren says staring towards his reflection in the glass of the counter at the pawn store he's in. He stares towards the clerk impatiently who is currently inspecting his fathers wedding ring with some disdain. 
> 
> “Yeah.” the man says, voice gruff as he pushes the money over the counter towards him. “who's gonna want you?”
> 
> “Nobody.” Eren hisses between clenched teeth.
> 
> And hes perfectly fine with that, thanks for asking.

_._

It was 11:45 of his 16th birthday when Eren's face deep in heroin. So when his wrist starts to glow this wonderful shade of amber- the golden brown color crawling up his arm- his first thought is that he's losing it.

 

_I've done it this time._ Eren thinks staring at his skin. _I'm really dying._

 

It isn't until his dealer, Reiner, slaps a hand on his back and laughs heartily. “Didn't know it was your birthday, fuck. Congrats man.”

 

He's not sure why it takes him so long to process Reiner's words, denial or the drugs crawling through his system probably. But a moment later, the thought takes hold in his mind, and it's the hardest crash Eren's ever had in years.

 

He feels like his skull has been smashed into the pavement so hard, his eyes have gouged, the pressure behind them building so hard and so strong. He's sure- sure Reiner has to be wrong- he has to be dying because- NO

 

Eren cant have a soul-mate. Eren doesn't deserve one.

 

So when Eren starts screaming, clawing thin lines underneath his eyes- Reiner throws him to the ground and grabs his wrist tightly behind his back.

 

“Shit Eren. Calm the fuck down.” He grinds out as Eren thrashes against the nasty carpet, tears and blood streaming down his cheeks.

 

“No. GOD. NO. WHY?!” The hysterics simmer and he presses his burning cheeks into the carpet, the breath making his shoulders shake. “I don't deserve one. PLEASE. Anyone but me.”

 

.

 

“I probably wont even meet him.” Eren says staring towards his reflection in the glass of the counter at the pawn store he's in. He stares towards the clerk impatiently who is currently inspecting his fathers wedding ring with some disdain.

 

“Yeah.” the man says, voice gruff as he pushes the money over the counter towards him. “who's gonna want you?”

 

“Nobody.” Eren hisses between clenched teeth.

 

And hes perfectly fine with that, thanks for asking.

 

.

 

He's on his way to meet Reiner almost a year later, hand twitching around the cash in his pockets. It's not enough. But maybe Reiner will let him off easy- he could blow him if he has to, and Eren cringes a little at the thought. It's already been longer than he's comfortable with- the creases of bad memories burning into his skull, and the waves of sickness lapping at the rest of his consciousness.

 

It's then it happens. His arm is burning, hotter than imaginable and it's is glowing bright beneath his ratty long sleeved shirt. It only takes a moment, to find him- his soulmate. He has a long face with a strong jaw, and these eyes that are looking at him in complete awe. His gut turns with grief and he can feel it before it happens, the tension of this boy- his boy- going to close the distance between them.

 

Eren doesnt have a lot of experience with love. But he sees it in this boys eyes and its mortifying. See, nothing he loves lasts- he'll destroy him. Eren knows it. And Eren is many things, but he doesn't want to break him. He doesn't want this for this boy. He knows, without knowing how, Eren knows that this boy deserves what he wants this time. And what he wants, is not, _can not_ be Eren Jaeger.

 

So he runs.

 

He runs until he looses his footing and falls across the slick pavement, tearing his jeans and skinning his knees. The tears that roll down his cheeks are disguised by rain, and the screams that rips its way out of his throat is lost in the wind. He thrusts his knuckles into the sidewalk until they begin to bruise and bleed, and he wonders if the pain he's feelings will ever stop.

 

If any of it will ever, ever stop.

 

I'm sorry. He screams to no one. I'm sorry.

 

_I'm so fucking sorry._

 

_._

 

The next 12 hours are excruciating. He's sure he's going to die- he's not sure if it's from withdrawal or the way his soul is writhing in his body. He closes his eyes as he slumps against the payphone, fingers shaking violently as he dials.

 

He's not sure if it's brilliant or stupid as the tone rings in his ear.

 

“You have to help me.” He rasps, as if he's been screaming, and maybe he has. He's always so angry. He's always so sad. He's always to much. “Please, Mikasa, please.”

 

He doesn't hear her response though because the ground is moving, and suddenly there's nothing but darkness.

 

.

 

When he comes to the first thing Eren sees is a white so bright it's almost blinding. He winces instinctively and fear floods his veins as his throat constricts around a tube. He has a tube shoved down his throat, he's in the hospital he-

 

A machine to his right starts beepings frantically, and on instinct he begins to rip at the wires in his arms. He wants to cough, and he wants to vomit and fear coats his veins. A nurse comes in an attempt to restrain him, Mikasa to his left.

 

“Eren be still!”

 

“Mr. Jaeger, the tube is helping you breathe if you just-”

 

_Hey you're okay. It's going to be okay.. just breathe. Just like this... in and out. It's okay. You're fine. You can breathe. In and out. In and out._

 

Eren blinks as he closes his eyes tightly, willing his twitching muscles to stop. He knows this voice. He doesnt know how he knows this voice. But he does. He knows it with every fiber of his being. He knows who he is, even if he's only seen him in this life, only once.

 

The nurse, Petra, begins removing the tube, while another nurse just out of view begins fiddling with the IVs. Mikasa, somewhere out of view gives his left hand a squeeze.

 

In and out...in and out... Eren tells himself quietly. I can do this.

 

_I_ _'m glad I could help you you maniac_

 

Despite everything, Eren cant help the smile that graces his features.

 

.

 

Eren hates rehab. He's in a constant state of panic, because he still has nightmares, and the nightmares more than the symptoms make him crave the drugs. Any drugs, all the drugs. He's never been so sick in his life, and he worries constantly that he's hurting that boy.

 

That boy- his soulmate- he _feels_ Eren somehow. Its like their moods feed off the other, sometimes thoughts floating through his mind that arent his. His soul-mate tries to console him sometimes. Sometimes he fails.

 

Now isnt one of those times.

 

_You doing okay you maniac? I'm here. It's going to be okay._

 

Eren can't help but laugh at the boy. The boy he doesn't have a name for, yet he can feel on the tip of his tongue. He remembers the boy in the deepest shade of green, and wings on his back. He remembers a version of the boy, in a place he cant quite place. He remembers the boy was suppose to be something else, something simpler. He remembers that the boy isn't- and he doesn't know how, but somehow he knows its his fault.

 

Eren's pretty sure in any version of himself- he ruins all that he touches, cradling his knees to his chest.

 

“She never gets to meet you.” Eren whispers in the quiet of the room knowing full well no one can hear him. “In any version of reality. You never get to meet my mom.”

 

And Eren knows, though _he_ doesn't understand, the sadness in his chest- isn't just his own.

 

.

 

Eren's in therapy when he feels his person pulling on their unstable connection. Its kind of like an itch he cant scratch as he listens to the voice in his head- quiet in its pain.

 

_Can you hear me?_ _Why'd you run huh? I thought..I thought this would be easy. I wanted this to be easy._

 

“Eren? Did you hear me?”

 

Eren blinks towards his psychiatrist, Erwin, whose brows are furrowed.

 

“Uh. No.” Eren says eloquently.

 

“I said, are you ready to talk about your mother today?”

 

He can feel his tongue dry in his mouth at the mention of his mom. Armin had told him once when he was younger that you can not make your own voice louder or softer in your head, that thought had no volume.

 

Eren had believed him until his mother.

 

His mothers voice was loud enough to shatter glass. His mothers voice was loud enough to shatter reality.

 

Something must have shown on his face because before he can respond, before Eren can choke that he cant- that he's not ready- Erwin folds a folder shut and smiles sympathetically.

 

“Maybe another time.”

 

The tightness in his chest loosens and he finds himself thinking, though he's not sure if it's to his soul mate- or a reminder to himself but...

 

_Nothings fucking easy dumb ass._

 

_._

 

Eren cant sleep, and he cant leave the room they've put him in. He's trapped. He feels like a caged animal. The windows have alarms on them, holes in the concrete walls where he knows there use to be bars.

 

The anxiety and frustration should be normal, he should be use to it. But he never gets use to the flight or fight. He never gets use to there never be something to actually fight. All of his demons are inside him. It doesn't matter who he puts his fist through, how many knuckles he breaks, how much blood he sheds. Nothing loosens the knot in his heart, nothing will fix the hole from the loss of his mother.

 

Nothing will make it not his fault.

He must be in bad shape. Eren's a little slow when it comes to noticing how close he is to bubbling over. There's never a tipping point, no warning sign to him let him know when he's going to charge forward headfirst into disaster. None that he's ever been able to recognize anyway.

 

But his person does.

 

His soul-mates voice calls to him, tired, and faint- but oh so very there.

 

_It's okay baby. I've got you. Rather you want me to or not._

 

Eren winces at the kindness instinctively, frustrated that he cant just be alone with his – whatever this is- it's his to bear and why, why must fate torture him like this? The frustration is palatable as he pulls the pillow over his face to scream.

 

His mind seems to quiet as he screams- and if his soul loathing soul-mate is talking Eren cant hear him. So he screams, and screams and screams until his voice burns and tears blur his eyes.

 

Its when he stops does the voice fill his head, on edge and unsure, a statement or a question- Eren isnt sure.

 

_Dont judge me okay._

 

Than there's a warmth that spreads through Eren that he cant explain, it's muscles untensing, relaxing. The muscles in his calves, the muscles in his thighs, his arms loosening- and Eren's comfortable. He's actually comfortable. The warmth floods heavy in his gut, and this feeling is familiar- the pull of arousal.

 

Eren manages to turn five shades of red, as he watches in amused horror as his dick stiffens beneath his pajama pants. He bites his lower lip and he can feel the pull closing in on his person, hard and fast, like a tidal wave- and Eren has to push a trembling hand to his erection to ease the desire.

 

He closes his eyes and lays back against the pillow, eyes closed and he cant almost imagine- his boy, red and damp covered a thin layer of sweat in a lovely splatter of his own cum. He falls asleep like that- warm and sated and still wanting when the voice pulls at the fraying edges of his consciousness

 

_Good night you crazy bastard._

 

 

.

 

He's depressed.

 

Except he really isnt, because he's getting out today- and he may have no where else to go- and he might not be better and not even close to good enough, but this is progress. This is a good thing. So the fact that his person is depressed is- its's hard.

 

But it's more than depressed, its accompanied with self-loathing, and disdain- and...how on earth can the boy he loves so much, the boy he's reworking his life for- how can he hate himself so much.

 

_I'm here.._ Eren says softly through the connection as he signs his release papers, and walks out the front door. _I'm here_

 

The response from his boy is so different than what he's use to. It's faint, and cracking when he responds.

 

_But you don't want me_

 

It's like a slap on the face as Eren blinks through the blinding sun, to Armin and Mikasa sitting on a bench outside waiting for him. He tries to smiles for them, he does, but he feels it tremble at the corner and they seem to notice it too, standing to meet him before he can close the distance.

 

_You're the only one I will want._

 

“I cant believe you made it.” Armin says not unkindly.

 

And Eren shakes his head. “I...haven't made it yet.”

 

Mikasa has gentle cold hands around his wrist, grounding him uncertainly.

 

“I'm sorry.” Eren manages, making her blue-grey's tear up. “I'm sorry I couldn't handle it after my mom- I'm sorry I was a lousy friend. I don't deserve either of you.”

 

“Eren...” Mikasa says, shaking her head already in protest as Armin laces his fingers with his. “Eren, we love you. We'll always-”

 

“Yeah. I know.” Eren says voice cracking, as he rubs at the back of his neck.

 

“So you met them?” Armin prods gently, fingers tracing up the mark on his arm.

 

Eren tries to laugh, but it comes out as more of a choking sound, as he unlaces their fingers and moves away from them. He loves his friends. He's always loved his friends. But the proximity to them is now uncomfortable, to much to soon.

 

“I ran.” Eren said. “I took one look at him, and I ran like hell. He should hate me. But he doesn't. He....thinks its his- He doesn't get that I was just trying to- I couldn't do to him what I did to you guys. _(over and over, again and again, in that life and this one, and probably the next)_ He doesn't deserve that....no one does.”

 

He cant see their expressions but he can feel them bearing into his back and he's already longing for the sting of a needle, the burn of it going up his nose- he'll take it any way. Anything to stop the guilt. Anything to stop the pain.

 

_Except I don't know if it'll affect him...and I cant do that. Not any more... Not ever again._

 

_._

 

It's around 2:00 when Eren wakes up in his room at his dads. His father doesn't know that he's back there, and if he did- hed probably take one look at him and throw him out. His father had understood, surprisingly enough the grief that flooded Eren's veins over his mom's death. Probably because it was pain shared. His father had provided him with things to sleep with from the hospital, some prescribed- and when the pain was unbearable- he would bring him other things too.

 

His father was okay with enabling Eren to be a druggie. His father, however, was not okay with finding out he was gay.

 

That's how Eren had ended up homeless, bouncing around off couches, stealing from his friends, stealing wallets from strangers on the street- basically being a shit stain on the face of the planet.

 

He hadn't allowed himself the luxury of masturbation of any sorts after that. He was curious if his father had ransacked the place and gotten rid of all of his....items. He made his way to the closet and sure enough, his box of unmentionables were there, hidden under a heap of his clothes.

 

Eren wish things of that nature hadn't mingled with shame, but he figures he's not the person he could have been with the addiction. He sometimes thinks he was suited for something else, like in a different version of reality in which he had a way to channel his anger, his despair. He thinks in another life maybe he had a purpose. Maybe he made a difference.

 

He squeezes the strange thoughts from his head and runs his vibrator under the water in his bathroom. It takes him longer than normal to prepare himself, he's out of practice, and lotion isn't quite as sufficient as lube as he stretches himself open. It burns, some, but he kind of likes it- it's grounding.

 

For as out of practice as he is, when he manages to work himself open enough to accept his toy- it takes him significantly less time to angle it properly and hit his prostate with overwhelming precision. He thinks of his soul-mate holding his arms above his head, he thinks of his teeth sinking into his clavicle with brutally hot precision. He jams a knuckled fist between his teeth as he bites back whines much to loud and a need so deep, he can feel the tension pooling into his gut- so hot in its intensity-

 

But the thought that tips him over is the memory of his soul-mate doing this. The way he had felt the pressure in his gut, the tingle in his cock as his soul-mate stroked himself to climax. The thought that- what if he's never bottomed before- what if Eren right now- what if he was the first to-

 

His release is overwhelming- whiting out his vision and leaving his limbs quivering, and copious amounts of cum staining his pelvis and chest. He finds himself laughing, a little overwhelmed with the satsifaction of relief, wiping himself off hazardously with his shirt before returning to a dead sleep.

 

.

 

Armin is helping him study later that evening at his Grandfather's place. Armin's grandfather keeps eyeing him suspiciously and Eren hates the distrust though he knows it's exactly what he deserves. It still makes his grip on the pencil tighten as he fails for the 30th time to get the math equation in front of him right.

 

“Cant we just skip this?” Eren grinds out, rubbing at his temples. His soul-mate has been a horrid mood today. He can feel the anger gripping him strangely- and he cant quite place what he's feeling. Anger isn't sufficient- its....its not just angry it's...its distracting.

 

“No Eren.” Armin sighs. “I looked it up, this is some of the problems that will be on the test for your GED. You need to focus.”

 

“Except I cant.” Eren says pencil snapping in half, as his skin begins to warm from within. He knows this feeling. This mother fucker was drinking. _DRINKING._ Eren lets himself exhale some of the tension slowly as he runs a hand down his face.

 

“I'm sorry.” He manages though his teeth are still slightly gritted. “It's...” for a lack of better words he guestures to his soul-mark, in which Armin nods his head understandingly.

 

“Does he show you things?”

 

“What?”

 

“Oh. That's how....it works for Mikasa and me.” Armin says. “Sometimes, I can see exactly where she is.” He says tapping the side of his head affectionately. “Or what she's doing, or who shes with. And vice versa.”

 

“No.” Eren says. “It's.... It's...I can feel him. I get like a...muted version of what he experiences. Like...anger or... sadness. Sometimes I can hear him talking to me in my head but..that doesn't happen often”

 

“That sounds hard. Is he upset?”

 

“Yeah. It's just.” _He's triggering me._ “It's fine.”

 

Eren excuses himself 15 minutes later when his soul-mates drank enough to make /his/ vision occasionally blur. And Eren is so mad he's livid, and he wants to cry and he's not sure how much is his feelings and how many of them are his soul-mates.

 

He wasn't trying to find him though the direction of one of the most popular bars was the direction he picked. It was popular because he it was poorly carded, and Eren use to know the kid who made fake ID's that lived a few streets over. It was convenience. Nothing more.

 

He didn't actually think he'd find him until he did.

 

The minute he saw the tall blonde kid over his person, the person, Eren knew. Eren knew exactly what Jean was feeling earlier.

 

It was jealousy, and it was ugly, and apparently it was Eren's turn to be hit with it ten fold.

 

And than he heard it, frantic and small in his own head.

 

_I don't want this._

 

And than he snapped.

 

-

 

“Why?” His soul-mate, _Jean Kirstchein_ challenges, his voice slurred but hard. “You- You- You got FUCKED yesterday. You- You- YOU CHEATED!” He points his finger right into Eren's nose before he slumps down the wall.

 

“Idiot.” Eren mutters propping him up affectionately. “Yeah I got fucked yesterday, BY MYSELF.”

 

It's Jean's turn to look flustered, glazed eyes wide and face red, speechless.

 

_I bet he blushes with his entire body._ Eren thinks before leaning in to whisper against Jean's ear. “I thought about you the entire time. I thought about how you would pin me down- I thought about how good youd feel inside of me and when I thought that maybe maybe you could feel what I was doing, I thought about how maybe I was the first to fill you this way. Did I make you cum Jean?”

 

His boy, his soul-mate, Jean, Jean kirstein- he sputters the red trailing from his face to his neck. “Y-you- I I....I don't remember. I'm tired.”

 

“I'm sure you don't.” Eren says sitting next to him with a laugh, Jeans head tipping to lean onto his shoulder. “Hey. Hey don't clunk out on me yet. Did you come here with someone ?I have to make sure you get home.”

 

“S'Marco.” Jean mutters. And Eren feels his heart clench with jealousy again. He doesn't think Jean can feel much of anything through his intoxication, but foggy eyes glance up at him affectionately. “S'friend.”

 

-

Eren meets Marco as Jean has fallen asleep against the wall. He has a kind face, Eren realizes, despite the distrust on it as he removes himself from Jean's side.

 

“You shouldn't let him drink so much.” Eren bites out.

 

“You shouldn't have ran.” Marco says back bluntly,

 

Eren flinches, shoving his hand into his pockets. “He's probably not going to remember...all this so, if you don't mind...Dont...dont tell him you saw me.”

 

“I don't want to lie to him.” Marco says simply. “Why don't you want him to know?”

 

Eren sucks on his lips, before sighing and turning his attention to the sky as if it will be easier to confess to than someone he knows is important to Jean.

 

“I'm not...he deserves better this time.” Eren says as if it pains him. “I don't know how but I do. Him..I think soul-mates....I think we've done this before. Somehow. And....I'm still....to messed up to...to be what he deserves. Okay?”

 

Marco seems to contemplate this for a moment before collecting Jean off the ground.

 

“He loves you you know, so get it together soon.”

 

.

 

He feels sick, and yes it's part Jean- but it's also because Reiner has his arm affectionately around Eren's shoulder, a smile that use to warm his heart now turns his gut.

 

“How's my best customer been? Havent seen you in a hot minute bud.”

 

_Please Eren, Please tell me it was real_

 

Jean's voice is soft, fraying on the edges of desperate, but Eren can barely hear it over the thundering of his heart- his eyes fixated on the small plastic bag in Reiners hand.

 

_Please you freaking maniac, you green-eyed bastard!_

 

Eren can barely swallow the knot in his throat, his jaw ticking.

 

_Tell me it was real._

 

“I..I cant.”

 

_Oh...but he wants to._

 

_._

 

Marco Bodt's last conversation is with Eren.

 

He meets him at the library while Eren fumbles dark circles under his eyes as he struggles to comprehend the math in front of him. Marco frowns gently breaking it down for him as Eren sighs.

 

“You'll get it you know.” Marco says soothingly. And Eren hates his freckled face. Hates that it gets to see Jean every day. Hates that Jean wasn't fated to be with Marco instead of him. Marco is kind and patient and understanding and helpful. He's everything Eren isn't.

 

“You have no reason to be helping me.” Eren grumbles behind a hand.

 

Marco shrugs limply. “I like helping people. Besides...I'm not doing it just for you.”

 

Eren eyes him, and Marco must see what he isn't saying because he sighs.

 

“Yes, for Jean.”

 

“Do you love him?” Eren says and he hates that his voice cracks.

 

But Marco just smiles kindly, placing a hand over Eren's, his fingertips tracing the amber of his mark.

 

“Of course I do. But not like this.”

“He's lucky to have you.”

 

“I could say the same thing.” Marco says before glancing at his watch. “Oh, I'm going to be late. Study hard so you can take care of Jean okay?”

 

“Yeah yeah” Eren says, waving off handily over a shoulder.

 

-

 

There was no way he'd know he was adding another regret to his list.

 

-

 

Eren's there when they put a sheet over Marco's body. He's also there when his mother and his younger brother show up, like a scene from a horror show, to identify the body. He wonders if they knew someone from the paramedics so that they didn't have to go to the morgue. Eren wonders if this was his fault.

 

“He was here to tutor you?” Marco's mom says, eyes watery and Eren's heart screams in his chest. He had a mom once. His mouth feels dry in his throat. She had two sons once.

 

“Yeah.” His voice feels scratchy and broken. “I..I need...I wanted to get...” Eren blinks the tears back hard, and finds one finding its way down his face anyway. “He was helping me get my GED.”

 

She nods biting her lip, hands resting hard on Eren's shoulders.

 

“You make sure you get it you hear me? You promise me.”

 

He wishes he didn't.

 

.

 

Eren knows the minute Jean knows. He wishes he didn't but he feels the despair hit him with the delicacy of an accelerated bus. The weight of regret and shame that follow suit are so familiar and so overwhelming, hes sure he's going to be crushed under the weight of it all.

 

_I wish it had been me_

 

It's Jean's voice in his head that triggers it. That slap of green, the deepest shade of green, splattered with blood and wings.

 

The weight is crushing him. It's ripping his chest apart, his back should be broken. Everything hurts. It's Jean's voice again, but it's close and its far- and Eren knows with certainty that it is not now, but it has happened.

 

/ _Eren what the hell is wrong with you? Didn't I once tell you that I'm counting on you? We have to trust the world, humanity, and our lives to you and this is how you repay us!?_ Marco... _Marco/_

 

There's his mom's voice. That scream. The scream that transcends time. He has blood under his nails. He cant move it. Why can he never move it?

 

/For once in your life can you listen to me, one thing i'm asking you, one thing./

 

Why is the last thing he always does with her fight?

 

There's nimble shy hands on fevered skin, there's Jean's voice, “You suicidal bastard” whispered fervently against crackled lips tasting of passion and blood and then there's

 

There's blinding mind numbing pain and a loss that blurs his focus and shatters his already broken mind and feeble heart. A body is not made to bear two lives. It is not made to withstand this pain, not once, and not certainly through time.

 

And yet and yet.

 

_“Your whole lifes aspiration is to be eaten! I was one day shy of shipping off to the MP! No! Not all of us our suicidal!”_

 

And yet and yet

 

_We are asking you to make us believe you're worth dying for! Do you think you can do that? If you can, I'm with you. All the way._

 

And yet

 

“Hey.... you bastard. It was...It was worth it.”

 

JEAN, you cant die on me? You cant.

 

_I love you, you maniac._

 

_._

 

The next few days, Eren is sick. His mind randomly flashing pictures of blood stained smiles and Jean's hand curled around his neck. Sometimes there's these...creatures- large and vicious and- his mother is always frail when she dies. Pale and weak and broken. Broken by a monster. Broken by a car. Always, Always Eren's fault.

 

Was Marco Eren's fault? Then? Now? Is all he does take?

 

_There's no justice in this world._ Eren thinks. If there was I'd be dead.

 

Jean responds a moment later, quiet in their faint connection- yet the words hard enough to hit like a slap.

 

_No there isnt._

 

.

 

Eren is on Reiner's couch pointedly ignoring Annie's feet across his lap, and Bertolt leaning over the table chasing his high. Eren shouldn't be here. He's tempted, way to tempted, and Jean- Jean is impulse and blood lately. Eren can feel the anger, it makes his blood hot and his microscopic patience nonexistent.

 

_It never gets any easier Kirschtein_

 

He know he sounds annoyed, and it's not really Jean's fault. Eren's the one playing with fire. But that doesn't mean his person is helping. It's not like his person cares this time. He's trying to not bring him down, not kill him in this life- not wreck his dreams and...

 

_I never thought it would asshole_

 

Eren stares towards Reiner, hands shaking. “I need something. Just...not this.” Eren gestures. “Gimme a xanax. Gimme something.”

 

_I'm sorry_ Eren thinks, knowing that Jean has no idea- will never have any idea how much. How much he wants. How much he hurts. How much he loves him. How hard he's trying. He's really trying. He swears.

 

_Whyd you run you bastard? Whyd you run?_

 

If Jean could see him snorting xanax. He wouldn't have to ask. He'd know.

 

.

 

“You have the test today don't you?” Armin prods. “for your GED?”

 

Eren nods, his hands are shaking again. God he hates himself. He shouldn't have gone to Reiners. But at least his mind- his mind stopped. That was the important thing. That was the most important thing right?

 

“Armin I need you to do something for me. My soul-mate...I need you to, He needs a friend right now. Would you? He goes to the library – where Marco...”

 

Armin nods, though a frown graces his features. “Sure Eren...Let me know how the test goes yeah?”

 

“Yeah.” Eren says as he rolls off of Armins couch, and out the front door.

 

.

 

He passes the test.

 

But he still needs the drugs more than ever

 

.

 

“Mom come on, would you?”

 

“Eren you need to watch where you're going! That's a good way to get hit!”

 

“Stop worrying! I'm FINE!”

 

“If you would just listen to me- one thing i'm asking you-”

 

“Whatever I can manage this!” Eren yells over a shoulder as he runs out into the street. He doesn't need his mother to worry over him so incessantly. He definitely didn't need her to push him and get hit in his place.

 

He never asked for that.

 

...He never listens.

 

.

 

“He's really in a bad place Eren. It's like he's obsessed that you ran. He doesn't believe anymore! Can you imagine having a mark and not believing? You need to talk to him. You need to come clean.”

 

Eren's listening to Armin. He is. Armin is smart and kind, and Armin is right. Eren knows. But all Eren can see is blood and death, and _monsters_ and that word is still not right. All he can see is Jean's corpse in the deepest green, and his moms mangled limbs painting the asphalt red.

 

“I ruin his life you know.” Eren says absently. “Every time I ruin it. No matter how much I love him. Always. Armin. I know.”

 

Armin sits next to him, lacing Eren's fingers with his own. Eren's fingers tremble between Armin's and Armin knows. Eren feels it in the tension in his shoulder, the tightening of his fingers.

 

“You're using again arent you?”

 

“There's things in my head Armin. There's things in my head that I know..l. I'm trying...I'm trying to protect him.”

 

Armin sighs, and Eren swears he thinks he can hear his heart breaking. “I'm sure you think you are.”

 

 

.

 

He's in counseling when Jean starts freaking out.

 

He has only used once since being out of rehab. But the temptation is strong enough that he's here, attempting to work it out, attempting to keep the visions out, the thoughts of the pills, or the heroin, or how easy it would be to get either out of his head.

 

_It's okay...Just breathe_ Eren tries.

 

_Nothing is okay. Eren. Eren. Eren. You bastard! You maniac! You Moron! We're through._

 

And suddenly, it's Eren who cant breathe.

 

.

 

Eren's not sure how he lost so much time as he hijacks Armins phone and dials Jean's number's number on the payphone a few streets over. It's 1AM, but he knows he couldn't have been screaming that long. He knows he couldn't have lost that much time in his head.

 

“llo”

 

The sound of him alive and breathing- and not understanding has Eren's voice coming out in a pained hissed, nerves strung so tight the hair on his arm is standing up.

 

“How dare you. We're through? Like hell we're through you self-centered horse-faced prick.”

 

The name is a memory that is his- and it isnt. It makes the anger course through Eren stronger than he's sure he's ever been. He's not crazy. Even if everyone in the world swears he is.

 

“What do you want Eren? ...What the hell do you want?”

 

The pain in Jean's voice vibrates through Eren's chest. _I want you to be happy._ Eren thinks but cant bring himself to say. _I want you to understand. I want you to..._

 

“Just wait.” Eren whispers, surprised he was managed to push the words out of his mouth. “Wait for me a little longer okay?”

 

He hangs up the phone and lets himself kneel down, hand pressed into tired eyes as he fights away the tears.

 

.

 

“You could of just asked for his number.” Mikasa says sighing as she sits next to Eren beneath a streetlight across from the library. “You shouldn't just take things Eren it makes us...”

 

“I know.” Eren says, noting the familiar red scarf he had given her wrapped around her neck, from many many years ago. It tugs a small smile to his lips, despite everything. “I didn't ask for this you know. I didn't want to be like this.”

 

“I know.” she says quietly. “the world is a cruel place. But it's also....very beautiful, don't you think?”

 

He remembers she's said that before... He remembers Jean.

 

/I'll put my faith in you./

 

/I love you, you suicidal bastard./

 

/It was worth it./

 

/I'd do it again/

 

He remembers

 

_Whyd you run you green-eyed bastard? Whyd you run?_

 

_“_ Yeah.” Eren says though it breaks as a sob. “Yeah it is.”

 

It's Mikasa notices than- an odd bundle of sorts on the side of the library, barely noticeable to someone unfamiliar with the location. “Eren did you?”

 

“Flowers” Eren says with a dissmissive wave of his hand. “I stole em. Marco probably wouldnt have liked that though.”

 

“It's only partially for him though.” Mikasa says rather to blunt or kind, Eren's never been 100% sure.

 

“He goes there.” Eren says softly. “He misses him so bad he cant breathe. I know what that feels like. I hate that I'm just fucking up and...watching and feeling him be miserable. But I thought I could at least do....this.”

 

“Eren...” Mikasa says sighing deeply. “Just...find a home. Get a job. Tell him the truth. Bouncing around- staying out on these streets....you'll just find your way to Reiners. Please....if not for me, do it for him? He didn't ask for this either.”

 

Eren nods swallowing around the lump in his throat.

 

“Yeah. Yeah okay.”

 

.

 

It had taken some time, more than he wanted to. But he was here...and so was Jean, amber eyes staring at Eren distrustfully- ready for him to bolt at any second. Eren is scared- he's never been so scared in his life, and for not the first time, he wants to run.

 

“I'm not a coward.” He says more to himself than to Jean, his hands clenching into fists as he fights through his nerves.

 

“It's okay.” Jean says- not bridging the gap between them. His feet are firmly rooted in place though his hands twitch absently at his side. “Just...breathe”

 

Eren exhales slowly before nodding.

 

“...There's another world inside my head. Sometimes, it causes me so much pain that I swear I'm going to...to break in two. Sometimes it causes me such pain that I....I did things to...to make it stop. I did drugs. I don't now, see I had to... I had to stop. But I still have the...the thoughts..and. My mom is...my mom is...” Eren shakes his head. He still cant say it. He doesn't know if he ever will. “Shes not here. And it's always my fault but...I know I'm not crazy Jean. I know these...I know these thoughts are real. I know it happened, these... _monsters_...they took so much. It happened to me...it happened to us once. And... its okay if you don't believe me, Armin and Mikasa don't either. But...I have never loved anyone but you. I meant it Jean..every word. You are the only one I will want. After all this....” Eren breaths, teeth tugging at his lower lip. “Can you still want me to?”

 

 

Eren feels his answer before he hears it.

 

_I believe you_

 

“Yes.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yayy! I finished this bad boy- gah, my poor baby.   
> I hope you guys liked it? And if you did maybe- leave me some love?   
> :)

**Author's Note:**

> There might be a Part II in Eren's POV.  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .
> 
> I make no promises  
> Thank you for reading!


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